


Of Cozies and Caps (A Run To You Remix)

by clotpolesonly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 2017 Camelot Remix, Actress Morgana, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Merlin, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: Merlin was halfway to beating his high score on one of those ubiquitous bubble-popping games when the bell jingled. The door was open and slammed shut before he could even close out the app, and he looked up to see a woman in a hoodie and shades with her back pressed up against the door like she was holding it shut against a hoard of zombies.The woman pulled her sunglasses off, lovely green eyes looking a little bit frantic, and said: “Hide me, please.”Merlin could never say no to that.





	Of Cozies and Caps (A Run To You Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Running Into . . .](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167900) by [AJsRandom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJsRandom/pseuds/AJsRandom). 



> My first time ever writing Mergana!!! So that was definitely something new and interesting for me, lol.
> 
> @AJ, I looked through a whole bunch of your fics before settling on this one to remix because this one was just so cute and sweet. And it really seemed to capture that feeling they had in canon: Merlin a little starstruck, a little out of his element but determined to help anyway, and Morgana just a little smitten with this adorable boy.
> 
> This was a lot of fun to write, and I hope you enjoy seeing your fic from the other side ^_^

This was probably the slowest day Merlin had ever seen in Camelot Coffee. Usually they were packed, every table full of uni students with laptops working on assignments or killing time between classes, long lines of people in suits needing a caffeine fix on their way to the office, a smattering of new faces off the street every day. There was none of that today, even three hours into his shift, and it took a glance at the front page of the newspaper to realize why.

There was filming going on not too far away, some big production that blocked off streets and diverted traffic. Apparently none of Camelot’s regulars fancied braving the roadblocks just to get a frapp, which mean that Merlin was alone in the strangely empty coffee shop. With a sigh, he tossed the newspaper aside and collapsed on his stool behind the counter to play games on his mobile until a customer made an appearance.

Merlin was halfway to beating his high score on one of those ubiquitous bubble-popping games when the bell jingled. The door was open and slammed shut before he could even close out the app, and he looked up to see a woman in a hoodie and shades with her back pressed up against the door like she was holding it shut against a hoard of zombies.

The woman pulled her sunglasses off, lovely green eyes looking a little bit frantic, and said: “Hide me, please.”

Merlin could never say no to that. Through the wall of windows that was the storefront, he could see people coming around the corner at a run, heading straight for them. He abandoned his phone and cast around for options.

“Okay,” he said. “Here! The restroom. I’ll them you went out the back.”

The woman let out a breathless but heartfelt “thank you,” rounded the counter at a near-sprint, and shut herself in the small bathroom with a click of the lock. Not a moment later, Merlin’s empty coffeeshop was invaded by no fewer than seven men and women, every one of them with a high quality camera in hand.

Paps. The woman had paparazzi on her arse. No wonder she’d looked so hunted.

“Where is she?” one man demanded. “I know she came this way, I saw her!”

“Me too!” another put in, camera already at eye level, scanning for a shot.

What _vultures._ Honestly, there was no one lower in Merlin’s esteem than a person who would chase, harass, and invade a celebrity’s privacy for cash. The woman currently barricaded into the bathroom of a random shop on a random street was a testament to exactly how persistently terrible these people were, and Merlin didn’t need to know who she was to feel suddenly, _fiercely_ protective of her.

He came around the counter to face the zombie hoard, arms crossed over his chest and feet planted.

“Where is who?” he asked, feigning confusion.

A pap sneered at him. “Don’t play dumb with us, kid,” he said. “You know who! She came right through here!”

Merlin made a face, mouth pulled down exaggeratedly, and shook his head.

“Morgana!” a very short woman in very high heels with a video camera in hand burst out with. “Morgana Le Fay! You know the one, sure you do!”

Merlin did know the one. There was hardly a person who didn’t nowadays; she had been a household name ever since her first breakthrough role, and for good reason. There was talk of a well-deserved Oscar in her future, on top of being considered one of the most beautiful women in the world. She must be starring in that film shooting nearby, the one making Merlin’s work shift more boring than ever before.

Merlin hadn’t recognized her, dressed down and shrouded in that baggy hoodie with oversized dark glasses covering most of her face, but now he let out a noise of comprehension and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“Oh! Is _that_ who that was?” he asked. “Morgana Le Fay, while I live and breathe. Hmm, well, what’d’ya think of that?”

The tiny pap woman snarled at him, bared teeth and all.

Another said, “C’mon, mate, tell us where the lady went!”

“Yeah, there’s a good lad,” said yet another.

“Need us a shot, if you know what I mean,” one man said with a wink and a lecherous grin. “I mean, _Morgana Le Fay!_ Need me a good shot of that!”

Merlin resisted the urge to slap the man on the actress’s behalf; he had a feeling he’d come away slimy and he didn’t have near enough soap in the shop to rid his hands of it afterward. Instead he thumbed over his shoulder toward the back room, the one with the emergency exit to the alleyway with all the smelly dumpsters in it.

“Ran straight through,” he said. “Near to knocked me right over. Went out the back way, I think.”

The whole lot of them nearly stampeded over him in their haste to pick up the imaginary trail, storming through the employees-only area with nary a care in the world for their trespassing. Merlin rolled his eyes so hard it made his head hurt. He waited a minute or two before checking the alleyway himself to make sure all camera-wielding sleazebags had disappeared, then came back to lean against the closed bathroom door and knock softly.

“Miss Le Fay?” he said. “They’re long gone. You can come out now.”

There was a click as the lock disengaged and the door was pulled open. Now that her hood was off and Merlin was less caught off guard, it was obvious who she was. There was really no mistaking that flawless bone structure, her creamy skin, the _eyes_ that had spawned more than a few internet debates over exactly what color they were. She really was stunningly beautiful.

She was also smiling at him, teeth perfectly white and even.

“Thank you...” she said again, and her voice trailed off in tandem with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“Merlin,” he offered, unaccountably charmed that this Hollywood starlet was polite enough to want his name.

“Thank you, Merlin,” she said warmly. “I definitely owe you. Can I maybe autograph something for you?”

Will would have probably had his head if he’d come out the other side of this celebrity encounter _without_ at least one autograph in hand. Not that Merlin would ever let Will get his grubby hands on this autograph; his best friend would probably use it to see how high he could jack the price up on ebay, and Merlin would not be party to that kind of opportunism when Morgana Le Fay was turning out to be so nice. No, he would keep this for himself.

“Um, that would be lovely, Miss Le Fay—” he said, the words coming out far more awkwardly than he’d like because he was an awkward person by nature and that apparently only got worse when faced with one of the most famous women on the planet. And then:

“Morgana, please.”

Hell if that didn’t damn near steal the breath from his lungs. There was a twinkle in Morgana’s eyes and a quirk to her lips that said she could see exactly how flustered he was, but she was kind enough not to comment on it as she waited patiently for him to get his wits about him again.

“Morgana,” Merlin said obediently, reveling in the way the name felt on his tongue. It seemed to fit there differently now that she’d offered it to him. “Um, here…”

He rushed back to the counter, realizing with a sinking feeling that they’d been having their little conversation still standing in the bathroom doorway. He cast around for something, _anything,_ suitable for an autograph and came up empty. Finally he snatched up the cardboard cup cozies and the black sharpie they used to write customers’ names on their drinks. He offered them up with a sheepish grin.

She smiled back as she took them from him, her fingers brushing along his and leaving trails of heat in their wake. Merlin stuffed his hands in his pockets so he didn’t do something stupid, like vow never to wash them again. He could’ve sworn he would be cooler than this in such a situation, but apparently he was _that fan_ and he couldn’t even bring himself to be ashamed of it because Morgana was really that lovely.

“You’re so much nicer than the people I usually deal with,” she said as she scribbled her name in wide, looping letters on the cardboard.

Merlin was glad she wasn’t looking at him so she couldn’t see his blush. She was too busy writing down what looked like a telephone number, right under the signature. She was biting her lip when she handed the cozy and marker back to him.

“If there’s ever anything I can do for you,” she said, “let me know.” Then she glanced back at the wall of windows, frowning. She raised an eyebrow at Merlin, tugging on the bottom of her hoodie. “Any ideas for a better disguise?”

“Oh sure!” Merlin said. “Here!”

He pulled off his apron—dull beige with a simplified logo of a castle on it—and handed it to her before skirting around the counter to the stacks of merchandise underneath it. He dug around until he found a medium t-shirt with the coffeeshop’s location and hours of operation on the back and a baseball cap with yet another logo on it, holding them out to her with a flourish of triumph.

“Tuck your hair up into this and put on the shirt and apron. You can take my friend’s reading glasses. I’ll just get him a new pair.”

Will could bitch about it all he wanted later; this was an emergency and he would have to get over it.

Morgana beamed at him as she took the clothes, disappearing into the restroom again to change and give Merlin a blessed moment to recover from the force of that smile. Jesus, he barely knew her, would likely never see her again, and he already knew this woman would be the death of him.

She emerged a moment later and held out her arms, spinning around to get his approval on the new look. The t-shirt was a little loose on her, but she’d knotted it up in the back to make it more form-fitting. The apron was tied snugly around her waist, looping around her neck and reaching almost to her knees. Her dark hair, normally seen cascading down her back in a riot of sleek curls, was indeed tucked carefully up under the cap until not a strand of it could be seen. Will's reading glasses perched daintily on her nose, slid down a bit, presumably so she could look over the top and not give herself a headache with the prescription.

All in all, she didn’t look half bad. She was also distinctly overlookable, which was the point.

“Much better,” Merlin said with a decisive nod. “Though it’s _you_ that makes the outfit, not the other way around.”

Morgana laughed, ducking her head. She made a motion like she’d meant to tuck her hair behind her ear, realized halfway through that the hair wasn’t there, and redirected to keep the glasses from falling off her face. She ran her hands over her apron next, smoothing it over her stomach.

“You _must_ let me pay for all this,” she said. Merlin started to shake his head, but she cut him off. “No, I insist! And I’ll need another t-shirt,” she added, coming up to lean her elbows against the counter directly across from her, barely a foot away. “I ventured out today to get my brother a birthday gift and I think he’ll love this.”

“Thank you, Miss—” Merlin stopped at the look she gave him. “Morgana,” he corrected himself. He rang up the purchase—with the friends and family discount because it was his prerogative if he wanted to consider the actress a friend in this particular moment and there was nothing she could do about it—and took her card to scan it.

“No, thank _you,_ ” Morgana said, taking the card back and tucking it away before accepting the little gift bag with her brother’s shirt in it. “And remember, I still owe you a favor.”

With that and one more blinding grin, she was out the door and down the street, the little bell tinkling cheerfully in her wake. Merlin let out a long, slow breath as the events of the last half hour sank into his brain. He fell back against the wall, knees feeling a little bit weak. He sort of felt like he’d been caught in a very beautiful, very gracious hurricane. Will was going to flip his shit when he heard this story, if he believed it at all.

Merlin’s eyes fell on the autographed cozy, set on the counter by the till. He snatched it up and ran his fingers over it, tracing the lines and curves of her name. This thing really would fetch a pretty penny on the internet, but it was the mobile number underneath it that would’ve been worth a fortune.

Morgana Le Fay had given him her number. _“If there’s ever anything I can do for you,”_ she had said, and it had really sounded like she’d meant it. Like she might actually want him to call her, as impossible as that was.

There was no _way_ Will was going to believe this story.


End file.
